


Life Goes On

by njckle



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, basically these sad kids need each other, newtina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 13:00:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20866646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njckle/pseuds/njckle
Summary: After Paris, they try to pick up the pieces.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Post-fbtocg snippets I posted on tumblr and decided to put them all in one place.

Dawn has long passed when they arrive at their destination, a elegant home in a wizard-dominated neighborhood, one that puts Newt’s quaint home to shame. He’s never minded his basic living conditions, but now, with half a dozen people to think of, they’ll need more space than his two-bedroom flat, and his basement is out of the question. So he ushers the small group into a home he himself hasn’t entered in months and hopes that Theseus has enough room.

It’s strange to be the one everyone looks to, to be the pillar of strength when everyone looks a mere breath away from collapsing. He’s just as frayed, but sticks to what needs to be done. Keep busy, that’s what he had to do. Keep busy until he could have a moment to himself. He checks for injuries, enough ingredients in his case to deal with all but the worst, and passes the dittany around; Theseus supports a bad knee and a nasty cut or two, Jacob’s in a daze, but physically alright, as is Yusuf and Tina and the woman in the ratty, blue dress Newt doesn’t know.

“She’s a maledictus,” Tina tells him quietly. “Her and Credence escaped the circus. She has nowhere to go.”

A maledictus. Newt had never met a person with such a blood curse before and the desire to learn rises, but Tina glares at him over her shoulder and Newt swallows in inquiries. Instead he nods. “She can stay here for the night. I’m sure Theseus won’t mind.”

It looks as though his words don’t reach the woman, her eyes vacant and wet. She sniffs, curling up tighter, the coils of her hair hiding her face. “He left me…”

Tina rubs her back with sisterly experience, only for Yusuf to shuffle closer to take her place. “I’ll get her settled.” He bends down and speaks in her ear, his tone low and his words too quick for Newt to try to understand.

Tina stands and takes a deep breath and Newt think she’s teetering, wants to offer her cup of tea, maybe a hug if he’s able, but she cuts him to it. “I’ll deal with Jacob—you go with your brother.”

Something passes between them when their eyes meet, a sort of understanding. Newt wordlessly passes her a vile of sleeping draught and watches her approach the only other American.

Jacob’s looks as if in a daze, vacant and blank. He doesn’t notice Tina touch his shoulder. “I called her crazy,” Newt hears him mutter.

“People say things they don’t mean.”

“No,” he says miserably while Newt tries to ignore the suffering that rolls of the man’s tongue with every word, “I meant it.”

Not wanting hear anymore, Newt makes his way further into the house, tracking mud and ash on the plush carpet. He finds his brother exactly where he’d left him when they’d arrived, slumped in an armchair with an unopened bottle of liquor. Newt carefully pries it out of his hands and sets it on the small table nearby.

“Theseus,” he whispers, treating this like he’s approaching a new rescue. Now that the secrets are out in the open and they’ve pledged themselves to a man who still knows more than they do, his brother has faded back to the grieving man in the graveyard. He’s a shadow of the confident older brother that Newt’s come to expect and he wants to cry at the sight of him.

“How about we get you to bed,” he says because that’s he can do. Care for him until he regains his former self.

Theseus nods. He doesn’t resist when Newt pulls him to his feet and directs him to his room, a spacious thing with a bed better fit for two, nor does he do much when he strips him of his coat. Vacant, but not fully gone, as he takes care of his own shoes, tossing them across the room with more force than necessary. He rubs his face, pulls his hair, but doesn’t say so much a word; instead, he gets in bed, suspenders and all, and turns to his side to face the empty space next to him.

“I’ll be outside if you need me,” Newt speaks to his back awkwardly. He doesn’t expect a response and doesn’t get one. He stays rooted there for a moment longer, unsure how to navigate this unfamiliar territory, before heaving a sigh, hurrying past a coquettish Leta smiling up at him from her frame on his way out. He shuts the door on the beginnings of muffled sobbing.

The maledictus girl and Yusuf are gone from the living room, as are Jacob and Tina, when he returns and Newt isn’t sure he prefers the silence. Not bothering to clean himself up, he sinks into the couch, a stain against the high decorum of the room, and lets himself wallow in his thoughts.

He thinks about Jacob, the poor man caught up in so much more than he bargained for, and of Queenie leaving them all behind. He thinks about his brother—about Leta and there’s a pinch in his chest, guilt and regret starting to excavate the tender parts of his heart, and he wishes that their relationship had turned out different, that he’d made a better effort to reconnect.

He wishes he’d come over for dinner.

He doesn’t know he’s crying until he feels the drops on his hands and, no matter how much he rubs them away, there’s new ones to take their place. He’s tired, very tired. More than ever he wants to flip through his life like a book, pass by all the chapters filled with scenes of grief and broken characters and get to the end where the world isn’t so grey and miserable.

A dip in the cushions and suddenly Tina beside him on the ridiculously soft couch. Newt stares at her, surprised, as she silently lights a fire despite the time of day. The room becomes alive, the natural light breathing warmth into the polished floors and the plush furniture, banishing the early morning silence as the wood crackles and snaps. With every broken heart taken care of and put to bed they’re all alone.

It takes a few tries to speak past the lump in his throat and when he does, his voice still cracks. “How are you feeling?” A horrible question to ask considering what they’ve been through, but Newt doesn’t know what else to do.

Newt becomes worried when she doesn’t acknowledge him, or even look at him for that matter. “Tina…”

“I’m fine, Newt.” Her voice is quiet, but firm. She’s still won’t look his direction, focusing entirely on the flames.

“Tina… would you please—” He touches her arm and her whole body jolts. She looks at him then, eyes rimmed red, the firelight casting shadows across her face that make her look even worse for wear. “Are you alright?”

He expected her to deny, to stubbornly hold it in for his benefit. He doesn’t expect her to grab his hand. She shakes her head. “No, I’m not,” she whispers finally. “She’s gone. Queenie’s gone. We were fighting and now…” Thin trails of tears slide down her cheeks and her mouth can’t decide if it wants to frown or not. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get her back. And Credence… I lost them both and…” She swallows back a sob. “I don’t know what to do.”

Newt shushes her. “It wasn’t your fault,” he says softly. “We’ll think of something.”

She’s crying earnest now, silent and nonstop, and Newt feels himself crack as well. Like with his brother, he doesn’t know what to do, how to fix this, and so he lets her come into his space and press her face into his shoulder. They stay like this until the fire slowly dies, until London fully awakens with the new day, until Tina’s crying subsides and is replaced with heavy breathing.

“I liked her, you know. Leta.”

Out of everything Newt expected her to say, that isn’t it. “You did?”

“We didn’t really talk, but I think we could’ve been friends. I didn’t expect her to be so…”

“Polite?”

“Sad.” She tilts her head to look at him. “And brave. She threw an amazing jinx at the matagots, did you see?”

He lets out a wet laugh. “You wouldn’t be the first to compliment her spellwork. She was very proud at getting an O.W.L in Charms.”

“I can see why you loved her.” Tina wipes her eyes. She shifts her weight off him as if to leave. Her voice seems so hollow, so defeated, and Newt has the sudden desire to give her something to be hopeful about, that his intentions were true.

Swallowing his worry, he grabs her hand and, when she doesn’t reject him, gently pulls her back to him. He moves with her, slowly intertwining their fingers. He stares at their hands, noting how slim her fingers are compared to his, how perfectly they fit together. Unlike his skin, her’s is pale and clean of scars, warm against his palm, and Newt thinks he’d like to hold her hand more often.

Tina’s thumb rubs small circles on his skin and Newt focuses on the feeling. He wonders if she knows that he’s sworn himself to secrecy, if she can see the invisible strings that bind him, a vow he can’t break. He’s a part of this whether he likes it or not.

“I—” he starts, but stops when she speaks as well. “—what?”

“I just wanted to say thank you.”

”What for?”

“Just thank you.” Tina leans against him more firmly and if Newt were brave enough he could wrap his arms around her like he’s seen regular people do in public (he isn’t and so he doesn’t). “Can we stay like this for little bit?”

After a moment of deliberation, Newt lays his cheek against the crown of her head. “Yes,” he breathes and it’s a relief on his soul.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s strange to enter his own home again. The lock still jams as usual, the hinges squeaking enough to be noticeable when Newt shoulders the door open, and nothing looks out of place since he left. Yet there’s a sense of wrongness he can’t quite place.

It makes him feel like an intruder, especially so after Paris; what was supposed to be a quick adventure has changed him inside out, opening his eyes to world where Leta is dead and Queenie has abandoned them. He’s different, done things he would never have considered days before. He’s chosen a side.

But, looking at Theseus and seeing his anguish, how could he not?

(“What about your brother?” Jacob had said.

Newt had glanced at the close door. “He’s writing to Mum, I suppose—to tell her about—Leta.” He grimaced, the thought slightly too real for him, and had turned away to gather his case.

A soft touch at his elbow and Tina was beside him.

“I’m fine,” he lies, focused on the stitching of his sleeve while he readies himself for the outside world and the people in it. “We better head off.”)

While Jacob’s already seen his home, Tina takes it in with rapt attention. Does she think it fits him? Did she expect more? Newt tries not to worry over her opinion too much or fixate on the way her eyes roam over each piece of furniture, but nonetheless does a small cleaning spell to fix the mess the nifflers caused during their escape.

“You can leave your coats at the door,” he says, stripping himself of his own. Best make a quick search of the house for escapees that took advantage of his absence, but there’s another thing to take care of first. “Jacob, if you would.”

His friend appears confused when he motions him closer, but his face changes exponentially at the sight of the baby nifflers, snoring peacefully, when Newt carefully takes them from his case. “There’s more of them!”

“Careful. They’ve been known to escape.” Jacob handles the little creatures with utmost care, careful not to wake them. “There should be a small cave filled with coins by the stairs. Make sure it’s locked.” Jacob nods, his soft murmuring floating after him as he leaves.

Tina hasn’t moved much from the front of the house. “It’s nice,” she says when she catches him looking.

Newt rubs the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. Behind her, the vase Jacob had broken upon his arrival looks brand new and it’s then he suddenly remembers. “I have something of yours. Queenie—” He winces and so does Tina. “She dropped a postcard. Yours, in fact.”

Tina’s expression turns tender when he hands it over.

“That’s how I knew you were in Paris,” Newt says quickly, stepping closer and turning his head to look at it again despite the writer being in front of him. “I recognized the way you, um, curl your y’s.”

“Newt…”

Jacob screams and the moment dies, replaced by urgency as Newt and Tina hurry to the basement. There they find Bunty holding the Muggle at wandpoint. He’s clutching the nifflers like they’re pearls and it’s then that Newt realizes that the two never actually met. “What are you doing with them!” she demands.

Before Bunty can threaten him any further, her wand flies from her hands and straight into Tina’s. “Back away from from him. Now.”

Newt sees that they’re seconds away from a disaster. “It’s alright. She’s my assistant!” He quickly steps between them, prompting Tina to lower her wand. “Bunty, this is Jacob and Tina. They’re my guests.”

Bunty blinks up at him owlishly. “Guests?” she says. “You never have guests.”

Newt flushes and tries not to be embarrassed by the implications. “Yes, well, they’re in London for the time being—staying with my brother.”

“With your…” Bunty looks at him like he’s suddenly shooting fire out of his backside.

“It was a last minute arrangement.” Tina hands back her wand with a soft apology. She studies Bunty with a strange expression and Newt thinks they should move past the moment and hurry back to what they came to do.

He pulls Jacob past his assistant. If the nifflers wake up, who knows how long it will take to get them settled and there’s work to be done, he’s sure. “Over here Jacob.”

Bunty follows after him, hovering as they get the little thieves settled. “You said went to Paris. Did you find what you were looking for?”

Newt risks a quick glance at Tina. “I did.”

“A creature?”

“Yes. We’ll have to make space beside the swamps for a new habitat.”

That gets her excited. “What is it?”

“A zouwu,” Tina says offhandedly, peeking into a doorway that opens up to a field in the springtime. “You’ll need the cat toy.”

“She’s rather spirited and friendly.” Jacob makes a noise in disagreement, but Newt ignores him. The zouwu is a kind creature, merely mistreated. He turns to Tina, almost nervous at her opinion of the place. “Do you like it?”

He’s awarded a smile that has his heart quickening. “I love it.”

Newt doesn’t know what to say, happier than he should be over a simple comment, so he merely grins back at her. He spots Bunty closer than expected and he clears his throat and hopes that he wasn’t staring too long. “You can go home now, Bunty,” he says. “We’ll deal with the rest.”

“But I’ve only just started the rounds and the grindylows habitat still needs to be looked over for leeches. Not to mention the stables have to be cleaned.” She steps closer, hopeful. “A-And the kelpie’s better with two.”

Tina sidles up beside her, her sleeves already rolled up. “She knows more about your creatures than me and Jacob. Besides, you could use the help.”

“Alright,” Newt says to her elbow. “Jacob, would you like to help Bunty with feeding the Abraxans?”

“The Abrax-a-what?”

“Abraxans.”

For some reason, Bunty appears disappointed (or, at least, Newt thinks she does), but she merely smiles when he looks at her. She shows Jacob where the feed is stored and hands him a jug of malt whiskey. The Muggle stares at it blankly for a moment. “Uh, I’m not really thirsty, but thanks.”

“It’s not for you. It’s for the Abraxans.”

“You give your horses whiskey?”

“These horses, yes. They can be a bit rough, so try not to get trampled.”

“What do you mean?” Jacob asks nervously, only for Bunty to head for the stables. “What does she mean? Newt?” He runs after her, leaving Newt and Tina alone.

Half a dozen doxies attach themselves to Newt’s shirt on his way to the shed, stubborning hanging on despite his gentle prodding, and Tina finds it particularly amusing. They bring down all the different feeds they’ll need for his creatures, as well as the eye medication for the mooncalves. Tina handles the jars of roaches and slugs without disgust while Newt juggles the mooncalves eye drops and the salve for the kelpie, and working together feels like it did in New York, efficient and comfortable.

In the middle of showing her how to correctly feed the diricawls and explaining that they’re not the most intelligent of species, Newt sees an invisible force pull at her trousers. When Tina takes notice as well a familiar figure reveals himself.

“Dougal,” she says quietly, her expression growing softer at the sight of the silver-haired primate. She extends a hand and Dougal does the same, stroking her offered wrist.

Newt shifts from one foot to another. “He remembers you.”

Dougal skitters forward, his golden eyes never leaving Tina’s. He reaches for her with his gangly arms like a child wanting to be picked up.

Tina looks at Newt for guidance and he nods encouragingly, taking the jar of crickets from her. “Demiguises give the best hugs.”

Very carefully, she reaches for the creature, hoisting him up onto her hip like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Dougal cooes and chitters, resting his chin on her shoulder, not inclined to separate anytime soon, and Tina strokes his fur almost reverently. Newt can see the moment she gives into the embrace, the tension in her shoulders and neck fading, and decides she likes her this way, relaxed and content.

He ushers her to his rudimentary desk, organizing the clutter to the best of his ability, and offers her his chair. Dougal makes a sound when she sits and Tina hugs him tighter. She meets Newt’s gaze from over the creature’s head, her eyes so expressive that New can’t help but crouch before her. Before he realizes it, he’s pried one of her hands away to grasp it between his own. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

“How are you always so kind? Even now?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m not. Not like you.”

Newt may not be able to read people easy or understand their reasons, but he’s become accustomed to Tina, and so he knows she’s thinking of Queenie. He’s beginning to recognize her expressions and queues almost as well as Pickett’s and so he wills her to see the truth in his. “You are.”

He thinks she does because she gives his hand a squeeze.

There’s a loud crash and Newt turns to see Bunty standing not far off. She hurriedly picks up the pail off the ground, glancing between the two of them. “I’m sorry for, erm, interrupting your…” She blushes. “But your friend… he’s stuck in the water trough and Molly won’t let me through.”

“Newt!” Jacob yells, then shrieks at something. “Would you knock it off!”

Tina laughs, a small sound, one that only just reaches her eyes, and it’s like she’s finally coming alive. Newt stares and stays there a moment too long. This is more like the woman he remembers.

“Newt?” Bunty’s still there.

“Hm? Oh, yes, Jacob.” Newt snaps out of his headspace and jumps to his feet before anyone can comment. “Will you be alright by yourself?”

Tina nods, still holding his hand. “Dougal will keep me company.”

“I’ll be right back,” he promises. It seems like a silly thing, but he means it. It wouldn’t take much to adjust his workload to keep her within view, maybe entrust Bunty to take care of the beasts at the edge of his basement.

“I’ll be here,” she says and it’s like a promise of her own.


	3. Chapter 3

Newt learns that the name of the maledictus is Nagini, that she her family migrated to France from Indonesia when she was a little girl, that she was abandoned not soon after. Tina fills in the gaps.

“Skender said she was helping Credence find his family, but she never left the circus grounds with him until the day they escaped.” She presses a finger to her lips when they let reach the guest bedroom. It’s the last on the hall, farthest from the rest of their lodgings. “From what I saw, I don’t think she was let out her cage.”

“She’s not been treated well,” Yusuf agrees sadly. Like Tina, he is equally cautious, making not a sound when he lets them in.

The room is seemingly unoccupied, the bed perfectly made and the curtains drawn. Newt keeps his steps light and slow when he fully enters, the hair at his neck raising as a feeling washes over him, like he’s in the jungle and there’s a beast just out of view. He eyes the wardrobe, but it hasn’t been touched either.

“Where is she?” Yusuf says from the door, worried. “Has she left?”

Newt drops to his knees, presses his cheek to the lush carpet, and peers under the bed. Within the shadows, he see coils of dark-colored scales as thick as man’s thigh. “She’s still asleep.”

A low hiss.

“Waking up,” he corrects, keeping his eyes on the moving mass. “Sorry about the intrusion, Nagini, but I thought you’d be awake. I was wondering if I could talk to you.”

Newt waits patiently. A slim head emerges from the numerous coils and he knows there’s intelligence in the slitted eyes peering back at him. Nagini’s humanity isn’t entirely gone in this form, a good sign. As long as he’s recognized, she won’t try and strike out.

“I can wait outside if that’s what you want.” He’s already pressing the boundaries by entering without an invitation, but that can’t be help now. His best bet would to read and adhere to her body language and hope she interprets his as well-intentioned and welcoming. “Would you prefer that?”

There’s more movement, but he gets his answer rather quickly. Nagini slips out from her cover, a stream of mottled scales that’s never ending, until Newt’s face-to-face with one of the largest pythons he’s seen. He’s no stranger to reptiles, and large ones at that, but the one before him is a stunning creature, and his fascination is unbridled.

“Good morning,” he tells her. He offers a hand, smiling at the tickling sensation of her tongue. “I take it you can change back? It’d be awfully inconvenient to have a one-sided conversation.”

Behind him, there’s the creak of floorboards, muffled by the rugs, and Newt makes sure that he doesn’t give any indication to Tina and Yusuf watching for any sign of trouble. Rather, he gives the marvelous creature in front of him the attention she deserves. Whatever she wishes, he’ll go along with, and he conveys it the best he can through his eyes.

He’s rewards for his kindness. Scales turn to skin and it’s a strange sight, mesmerizing even, and Newt can see the battle in the way the body spasms, how the her hands barely manage to take shape until the very last second. The snake-turned-woman is pale-faced and shivering when it’s over. She hugs herself tighter when she meets his eye.

Newt tucks his chin. “There we are.”

Nagini mutters something in French when she and Yusuf answers in kind. She glances at Newt again and, in a small voice, asks, “Why are you interested in me?”

“Tending to magical creatures is my living, you see, and I’ve never met anyone with a blood curse likel yours.” Nagini winces as his words. “I’d like to help, but I’m not sure how. I can give you anything you might need if you’ll tell with me.”

“Anything I need?”

“For when you change.”

Here, Nagini looks anxious. “I always try to stay awake, so I’m not sure what happens. I don’t remember what I want when I’m…”

Newt ponders over this. Perhaps he should reevaluate of her consciousness as a beast; while there is a connection, basic and initially non-threatening, memory loss poses a problem. The best plan of action would be to slowly integrate himself to her as a beast, affiliate himself with a sense of safety, and that would allow him to work with her personally. “I noticed that you prefer small, enclosed spaces with minimal light. I’m sure we can transfigure your room to make you comfortable.”

She glances around the room like a cobbler might the queen’s palace, as out-of-place as a smudge of ash against pristine palace floors. “I’m not used to places like…this.”

Newt nods, understanding. “Not my taste either. I sleep in my workshop more often than naught. Still, better than your old home.”

“That place was not my home,” she says and Newt can’t argue with the finality of her voice. She wipes her nose with her sleeve, timid but not fully broken. Another good sign.

Newt takes notice of her clothes. Despite the days spent in London, she’s still in the rags she came in. Her dress is filthy, but she grips her skirts so tightly that Newt thinks it’s more of a crutch than anything else. “Why don’t you change and I can show you—my case, I mean.”

For once, he’s not the one shying away from eye contact.“I-I don’t have anything else,” Nagini admits in a small voice, her cheek and neck flushing bright red.

“We can ask Theseus if Leta—if she kept some of her things here.” Newt turns back to the duo patiently waiting at the door. Tina nods and goes to fetch his brother.

Newt doesn’t think it’ll be a problem (hopes it won’t), but is nonetheless relieved when Theseus doesn’t put up a fight. He acts like he’s only just waking from a dream that’s held him for days, with his shirt untucked and his hair uncombed. Some hint of understanding peaks through the haze when he sees Nagini and it’s like he’s finally noticing she’s there, that he should be playing host; he shows them Leta’s room, but doesn’t go inside after the women as if he’s barred from it by a spell. He stops Newt from entering as well.

“I need to see if she’s sustained any long term—”

His brother shakes his head and Yusuf is smiling softly. “My friend, while she is cursed to become a beast, she is a woman foremost.”

Newt blushes and lets them direct him to the parlor to wait. When Yusuf is confident that Nagini is in good hands, he sets off to find Jacob so that they can stock the pantries for a decent meal while Newt stares at Theseus as he prepares a drink. They don’t speak and his brother ultimately discards it, sighing.

“I’m fine, you know.”

Newt nods, picking at his nails. They’re really not.

The women come back into the main room and Nagini appears completely changed. She’s cleaner, her hair no longer a tangled mess of knots and Newt recognizes what she’s wearing as the dress Leta wore at the Ministry during his fifth appeal, only it’s tailored for her height. At the misalignment of the top buttons Newt remembers how Tina had once written that she was a poor seamstress compared to Queenie.

“We’ll get you some new clothes soon,” Tina promises, fixing her collar like it’s second nature. She steps back, close enough to Newt that he could reach out and touch her, and frowns at her less-than perfect spellwork.

Newt clears his throat. It’s completely new to be apart of a united front, but he follows Tina’s lead. “I can, um, show you Diagon Alley.”

“I have no money,” Nagini says, embarrassed.

“We’ll take care of that.” Tina’s stubbornly kind. She’s an unmovable pillar of strength and offers all that she has for this wayward soul.

Nagini shakes her head. She looks almost distressed, like it’s all becoming too much for her. Accepting so much charity must be a strange experience for her and that itself is depressing, that one person could live without kindness and care for so long.

“Then just take this then.” Theseus stares at the woman a moment longer than necessary. He makes a noncommittal motion toward Leta’s room. “You can take them all if you want.”

It shouldn’t mean much, merely a compromise to suit both parties, but one look at Nagini and it’s clear that such a notion is more than she expected. She clutches her old dress in her hands like its a string of pearls, crumbling in front of their very eyes.

Newt and Tina rush to her side when she drops to her knees, but Theseus gets there first. He catches her by the elbows and falls with her, wide-eyed at the women suddenly sobbing in his arms. He stares at them for guidance, out of his element, before carefully hugging tighter, like he’s handling a glass figurine that would shatter any second.

“Thank you.”


	4. Chapter 4

The days that follow Paris are a strange middle ground of uncertainty. Newt knows to stay, to keep with his brother, with Tina and Jacob, but not what to do while he waits for the past to fade and his future to take hold.

When not dealing with his creatures, Newt finds himself remaining out of his case. He spends mornings with Nagini, discussing her ailment, and Tina comes in and out of his day like a refreshing breeze. Today he entertains himself watching Jacob take stock of Theseus’s kitchen. Nagini sits at the table by the window, her head pillowed by her arms, and even in the light of the late afternoon, she still appears heavy-hearted.

The Muggle pulls out a bottle from the pantry and raises his eyebrows. “How is this cold?”

Newt cracks a smile. “A simple spell, but the effects are actually fascinating if you think about it.”

The Muggle appraised the bottle, overly captivated by such a little thing. “If everyone used magic, them General Electrics would be out of business.” He nudges Nagini playfully. “You think I can give this wizard kitchen a whirl?”

The maledictus blinks out of her daze and gazes the space with somewhat revere. Theseus hadn’t wasted a galleon on the place, the kitchen large and colored in a clean coat of blue paint that was calming, supporting a pristine oven and sink combination that set Newt’s to shame. “I’ve never been in one so nice.”

“Ever bake in one?”

She shakes her head.

“Well, you’re about to learn Grandma Kowalski’s butterscotch recipe! She used to put it in everything she baked. I’d have cake to last me the week.”

“Cake?”

“You know…please tell me you’ve had cake before?” When she shakes her head again, Jacob looks struck. “That’s it! We’re making it immediately.”

From there, the Muggle is an unstoppable force, hurrying from one end of the kitchen to another, gathering all he needs. After some gently nudging Nagini follows carefully, graceful and strange in the way she moves, peaking over his shoulder when he writes down a general recipe by heart. Yusuf emerges from his room after his third prayer of the day to silently watch the process from the doorframe and Tina sidles up beside Newt, murmuring a soft apology for taking so long from her own recitations.

“Baking makes me feel more like myself,” Jacob says while he easily takes on each task, the contents of the slowly becoming batter. “You know, I learned how to cook in France.”

Yusuf finds that interesting. He takes a looks at the recipe as well. “Did you?”

“A Frenchman named Jacques was the cook where my division was housed. Never seen a man slice up beef that fast.” Jacob keeps talking, filling in the spaces that were previously dominated by unsure silence. And while Newt sometimes doesn’t know what he goes on about, baseball and dentists completely foreign to him, he can appreciate the normalcy this type of conversation brings.

Jacob shows Nagini how to whisk the batter, and comments on how to keep it light, kind and patient at every step. When he’s thrown the platter into the oven and begins explaining how to decorate, Yusuf lets out a small laugh (it’s nice, Newt thinks, and wonders when’s the last time he heard anyone laugh). “You’ve forgotten dinner in your eagerness, my friend.”

Nagini’s stomach makes a soft grumble and she hugs it, blushing. “Maybe a small bite until it’s ready?”

“This place is stocked.” Jacob kisses his fingers like a professional chef. “I’m imagining a feast. What do you guys say?”

“I think we can manage something,” Yusuf says, surprising them all with his compliance. Without any more insisting, he magicks the food to fly from the pantry and begin cleaning themselves, then the knife to get to cutting and peeling. Tina rolls up her sleeves and joins him.

“Looks like you and me are stuck doing it the old-fashioned way, ey doll?” Jacob says cheerfully after he’s fawned over the simple spells. Nagini cracks a small smile. “How about you and me tackle the bread after I finish this up?”

“Newt,” Tina says when he’s left behind, unsure on whether to join and what to do. “Why don’t you help me with the stew?”

It’s a saving grace in disguise as an offer. Jacob waggles his eyebrows at him when he joins her and Newt tries not to think too much into it. He’s made his feelings known and so has she, so best to keep as usual.

Soon the sounds of the kitchen is in full progress and someone tunes the radio in the corner of the room to play a soft melody. Tina tells him of an old recipe she remembers her father used to make, leading him every step; with her own admission, she’s not much of a cook, but Newt’s spent enough time traveling alone that he’s more than capable of shouldering the work where she lags. Working closely, their hands brush often, which causes Tina to tuck her hair behind her ear and Newt to fumble with his wand work, and once or twice the vegetables nearly take a tumble to the floor on their way to the pot. His slip ups aren’t brought up and they manage to replicate the meal well enough.

Yusuf looks to be more in his element, handling multiple dishes at once, each one different than the last, resembling those Newt can vaguely remember from his travels. He and Tina discuss variants and substitutes, and Newt leans against the counter to watch Nagini knead the dough as best she can, risking glances at the pair. The room’s temperature rises and the smells become agonizingly mouth-watering and overwhelming, rich and homey in every sense.

At the strike of the old grandfather clock in the parlor, Theseus arrives back from the Ministry. He pauses in striping off his coat when he spots them, weary and wide-eyed.

“Right on time!” Jacob greets him like a close friend and Newt has a fleeting moment of jealousy before he squashes it down. “Hope you’re feeling up to a potluck!”

“You’ve been busy,” his brother says.

“We made cake.” Nagini playfully claps her hands, creating small clouds of flour.

“Drinks?” Tina offers.

After some searching, they find some firewhisky in the back of a cabinet. Tina nearly upturns the dishes when Jacob tries to take a taste; he’s given some of the Blishen’s Fire Cinnamon Flavoured Whisky instead and Newt tries not to be embarrassed at nearly sending his Muggle friend to St. Mungo’s. Nagini prefers butterbeer and Yusuf, surprisingly enough, is easily persuaded for a shot of gigglewater. Theseus hands a glass of brandy to Newt.

The timer goes off sooner than Newt might expect and then everyone’s suddenly going every which direction to get what they need for the last touches. Jacob waves off Tina when she dips a finger in the sauce, makes a half-hearted sigh when Nagini does the same soon after. Newt nearly slips on a spill and knocks over the stack of plates flying out from a cabinet. It’s just a matter of setting everything up after that, and Theseus scrounges around for extra chairs while Tina sets the table with a lazy flick of her wrist.

It’s strange that a group of lost souls can come together and kind some resemblance to normalcy. Theseus looks like he’s still trying to process it all when he’s ushered to a seat, and so is Newt. He can’t remember the last time he and his brother had a meal together; they’d met up in a bar once or twice, but those types of outings usually ended as quickly as they started.

The lights are dimmed until the room is illuminated by the handful of candles set on the table, casting golden hues that shiver and shake, breaking the shadows at every corner. Dinner is set and the spoons are especially eager as they give out servings. One of the loaves is misshapen, but Nagini smiles at it proudly. “You can work at my bakery anytime,” Jacob tells her honestly before digging in.

Pickett peaks out of Newt’s pocket and immediately grabs the attention of the table. He gathers the little bowtruckle in his hands while Nagini takes a small piece of meat from her plate and offers it to him. It’s spit out almost immediately.

Newt chuckles. “Not to your taste, is it?”

Jacob quickly reaches for another dish. “Potato maybe?”

That’s not taken well either, but the Muggle is undeterred, offering more from his own plate; it grows from there, like it’s some sort of game, and they discover that Pickett isn’t opposed to the taste of rice, but won’t touch beef. Nothing of importance to be put in the next edition of his book (if he ever got to it), but he notes it nonetheless. Just like he notes that Nagini enjoys dipping her bread in whatever lines her plate, or Jacob realizes that he was stationed only half a dozen blocks from Yusuf’s family home; that Theseus knows more about Muggles than Newt ever suspected, keeping up with Jacob’s varying terms and phrases, even admitting to playing a few games of poker with a Muggler during the war; that Tina doesn’t care whether or not her food is mixed and digs in eagerly after a quick prayer while Nagini takes time to sample every piece of her meal. It’s the little details that are fascinating in their own way, setting them apart all the while adding a touch of familiarity to the entire situation.

When Picket begins to toss his rejected food, Newt brings out a small piece of wrapper, the the last of the Fudge Flies he’d nicked from the Beasts’ Department. One remains intact while the rest are too melted to even flutter and Pickett finds it far more interesting than anything else offered.

Jacob’s face twists at the sight of the candy. “Ew, gross.”

Theseus sighs. “You never listened when Dad told you to leave them outside.” The words aren’t aggressive in any way and a glance in his direction lets Newt know that he’s not being scolded. He’s given a half-smile instead.

More tuned to pinpoint when he was being spoken about, Pickett blows a raspberry, snatching his desert and hurrying up Newt’s sleeve to eat from the vantage point of his shoulder. Nagini leans in close to watch and Newt’s mouth is already beginning his usual speech about bowtruckles and their attachment issues. Theseus then comments on how this particular bowtruckle can’t handle liquor, much to everyone’s delight and Newt’s embarrassment. Jacob’s laugh drowns out Nagini’s soft giggle until he chokes and Yusuf’s face loses the last of the somberness that’s grown over the past couple of days, as does Theseus’s.

Newt meets Tina’s gaze from across the table, the candlelight reflecting off the dark of her eyes, and it’s like that night in her and Queenie’s apartment in New York so long ago. This time he keeps eye contact and there’s a strange fluttering in his chest, a warm feeling that ushers the gloom of the past away and replaces it with something far more lovely. They share a smile.

Newt thinks that maybe everything will be alright.


	5. Chapter 5

Tina finds him curled up with the zouwu. “Newt…?”

Newt cranes his neck and spots her no more than a dozen feet away. “She’s very lazy today. All you need is a—”

Tina reveals the small slab of meat she was hiding. The zouwu rumbles in interest, snapping up the peace offering when it’s tossed her way; the bone breaks with an audible crack. Tina quickly ducks under the plumed tail while the zouwu’s attention is divided and crawls the rest of the way.

“Bunty told me you’d be here,” she says when she’s settled at the crook of the zouwu’s hip, the fall leaves of the habitat a complimenting backdrop to the both of them. Done with her snack, the beast curls her tail around her in a makeshift shelter, effectively sealing them in.

Tina scoots closer until Newt and her are sitting hip to hip, their knees pressed together. “I helped Jacob make everyone breakfast—turns out I’m an expert at omelettes.” She cracks a smile. “Yusuf helped me convince Nagini to change back. It only took five minutes, so I think she trusts us more. And Theseus headed to the Ministry for a meeting with Mr. Travers.”

“I assume he wasn’t happy that I didn’t see him off.”

“He’s worried about you.” They knock shoulders like they’re housemates. “From your letters I expected him to be some arrogant Big Shot, but he cares for you.”

“Soon he’ll be trying to control everything and find some excuse to ‘keep me out of trouble.’ Mum always said we needed to be kept five feet apart—”

“Newt,” Tina says suddenly. “Do you want to talk?”

He looks up and the way the light passes through the skin of the zouwu’s tail is almost mesmerizing, slivers of light sneaking past the coils to splatter golden shades onto its hide and Tina’s cheek. Newt blinks, tying to focus. “I’m not sure about what.”

“Anything. What were you doing before I got here?”

He drums his fingers on his knees in a tuneless symphony. “Did the rounds. After that I’ve been here—with the zouwu. I needed to be sure she’d taken to her habitat alright.”

“And then…”

“And then?”

“Why didn’t you come back?”

A kind of nervousness fills him, one that he’s been trying to ignore, and even he doesn’t understand the reasoning behind his habits. “I’m not used to—that is, I prefer not to be surrounded by so many people. The noise, it’s all so… distracting. I can’t, um, think.” Tina nods along and he’s emboldened to continue. “I enjoy Jacob’s company and everyone’s very kind…Theseus has been more attached and I’m not sure—he’s always been a hugger, but it’s—”

“It’s all happening too fast?” Tina supplies.

Newt picks at his cuticles, worried. “I don’t sound to incredibly selfish, do I?”

She’s quiet for a while, her expression pensive. “I don’t think that you’re being selfish. We all need time to ourselves whether or not we’re hurting. If being alone helps you, then I understand.”

Tina turns towards him as best she can and Newt does the same so that they’re facing one another, closer than he expected, and the position is more riveting and scary than facing against Grindelwald and his flames. The zouwu grumbles in her sleep, curling around them tighter, but doesn’t wake.

“Jacob’s staying in London,” Newt tells Tina, blurting the first thing that comes to mind in the face of their current intimacy. He focuses on the way the zouwu’s side shifts with each inhale, trying to keep his mind clear, and definitely not on way Tina’s breath hits his chin. “Says he has someone to run the bakery in New York while he opens another here.”

“He’s a good guy.” Tina mimics Newt and pets the zouwu, dragging her fingers along a jagged stripe. Their fingers touch. “I’m glad he’s staying.”

They’ve dipped into this conversation enough times for Newt to know where it leads. He’d rather have dinner with his relatives than discuss her upcoming departure. With Jacob, Theseus, and Bunty, he fears that he won’t get a moment of reprieve, but he wants the company all the same, needs it now as much as he needs his creatures. But Tina… she’ll be alone.

Why don’t you stay? he wants to say, but doesn’t.

“You look tired.” Very delicately, she brushes the hair at his brow and Newt’s words die in his throat. “You know, your hair kind of reminds me of a…”

“Zouwu,” he says jokingly. Most of his childhood, he’d been told he had the unfortunate luck of inheriting his mother’s curls. You could nest birds in this, Mum would often say whenever her efforts to flatten it for a stuck up party or dinner were in vain. Nothing particularly noble about it.

“Yes! It’s not really brown, is it. In the light it’s more…fiery.” He doesn’t move as she pushes further, running her fingers past his ear to pet the hair at the back of his head. “You said zouwu’s were made to run, right?”

“Yes.” She digs her fingers deeper and Newt’s pulse quickens, everything about this moment telling him to act. Even so, he thinks he’s been struck dumb, unable to do anything besides stare.

Tina takes this as something it’s not. “I’m sorry. Do you still want to be alone?” She begins to draw back at his reaction, or lack of one.

“No, no,” Newt says, breathless. He holds her wrist where it is, her pulse pounding against his thumb. “I like being alone…with you. I—It’s nice and we’re…” He swallows, trying to pinpoint the right word for what lies between them.

“Friends.”

“Yes.” Trying to articulate his thoughts and feelings is a challenge on the best of days, and now, after Paris and all the good and bad it brought, he struggles with a confession that’s been burning in his chest for months. How does one romance someone when they’re unsure of the steps involved? And was there a protocol when the object of his affection was dealing with the betrayal of her sister?

There’s a desire, one he hadn’t felt in a long time, and he wonders if this is how people always feel like, pulled in two different directions. He lets himself be pulled forward and slowly drags his hand along Tina’s arm, unable to stop the slight tremor in his hands as he threads his fingers through her own hair. Their noses brush, but Newt can’t bring himself to go any further, stuck between a raging Fireball that might burn him if he makes the wrong move and drowning in a raging river.

He wishes that Time Turners could move forward in time and take him to a future where he’s unafraid to let go of all the scars and heartache he’s desperately holding onto. There, he’d say all he wants without trouble, be like all the normal people he sees on the streets, and they could continue past this strange intermediate that they’re stuck in.

Tina’s eyes are wide and inviting and still Newt’s body won’t move.

“It’s OK,” she whispers when the moment comes and goes, and the gentle press of the words against his skin is overwhelming. She grabs his other hand and holds it against her heart. “You can relax now.”

Newt nods, relieved. “Can we stay like this?”

“As long as you want.”


	6. Chapter 6

Tina leaves that following week. She’s not the only one, Yusuf the first to depart. He promises to keep in touch and to visit, but is determined to get his affairs in order.**  
**

“I’ve let my father’s revenge take so much of my life,” he says sadly, shaking their hands one by one. “I think it’s time I do something for myself.”

Jacob prepares him some food. “I ain’t one of them French cooks, but at least you won’t leave hungry.”

In a prejudice world, Yusuf is a kindred soul, a pureblood who accepts the gifts of a Muggle and willingly embraces a Maledictus when even the more revered wizard would not. He leans in close when Jacob leads Nagini back to the kitchen to finish everyone else’s breakfast. “Look after Mlle. Nagini. She’ll be treated far better here than anywhere I take her.”

Theseus promises and, while Newt’s brother is a good man (if not insufferable at times), he’d never been one to take in strays. Paris has taken something from each of them, but it’s also given something in return. Another chance.

Newt personally takes Tina to the Ministry that night.

They stand by the fireplace in silence, awaiting her turn while the crowds of witches and wizards pass by, an air of morose hanging over them like a stormcloud. Staring at the pristine stone that make the mantle, the shining plaque that reads ‘New York City’ in lovely cursive, Newt comes to a sudden realization. He absolutely doesn’t want her to leave.

They haven’t spoken much about what lies between them, about what it means, or what comes after. It’s something entirely new, more dangerous than any of his escapades to foreign jungles and deserts, his pulse rocketing in anticipation at the mere thought of her responses. For the first time in his life, Newt would like nothing more than to talk about this terrifying feeling, except he isn’t sure how to go at it himself.

“I’ll get Jacob situated,” he promises instead of bringing it up, “and Nagini will be taken care of. She’s agreed to let me, um, study her curse. I’m not sure I can do much—alleviate the symptoms maybe—and hopefully give her more time.”

“Thank you.” The cool light in the atrium paints the scene like it’s the end of some tragedy and it’s a pitiful way to end their story. “Take care of yourself, Newt.”

Newt glances up at her and finds that Tina’s holding back tears and he reaches forward to do—what, he doesn’t know—only for Tina cover the rest of the distance for him. She steps into his space and envelops him in a what he can only describe as a loving embrace, and, after a beat, his arms wrap themselves around her waist like this is a normal habit of his. He holds her tight, beginning to see why Theseus likes it so much, the feel of someone he so desperately wants close, unwilling to let go just yet, not until he’s ingrained the moment in his memory for duller days.

“I will,” he says to the crook of her neck and soon he’s holding back his own wave of emotions. Exchanging letters will be a pitiful replacement, inadequate to having the real object of his affection in front of him, speaking to her whenever he likes. “Try not get in so much trouble that I need to go chasing after you.”

She squeezes a little tighter. “Keep doing that.”

“Do what?”

She pulls away to face him and this close her eyes are dark and endless. “Chase after me.

* * *

It’s a quieter breakfast the following morning.

“Where’s Tina?”

Newt looks up from his breakfast. “She went back to New York.”

Jacob nearly drops the eggs from the pan. “What? Tell me you didn’t mention no salamanders and scare her off.”

Theseus looks at him confused and Newt resolutely keeps his gaze on the tabletop. He never openly talked about his growing fondness for Tina, preferring to be selfish and keep her to himself, and with the engagement and his newfound fame, he valued his solidarity more than ever.

“I don’t understand why that would scare her off. As an auror she sees and hears quite a lot of unsightly things,” Newt says, playing with his food, his appetite nonexistent. “And she took the compliment rather well.”

“She did? Then what went wrong? Did she tell you?”

Newt shrugs, just as confused. “We haven’t, um, spoken about it much. I’m not sure Tina…she said she wants me to chase after her…”

For the first time in days, Jacob’s expression doesn’t have any lingering sadness. He looks gobsmacked. “And you’re still here?”

“Well, she still has things to take care of in New York. MACUSA will want a report of what happened in Paris and I suppose she needs to deal with her…” Newt grimaces. “Boyfriend.”

Theseus is staring at him strangely now, like he’s grown two more heads.

There’s a clatter as Jacob abandons his cooking and pulls up a chair beside him, breakfast forgotten. His elbow nearly topples Pickett’s small dish of lice. “Listen, pal. When a doll says to come after her then you follow her!” He turns to their only female companion. “Right?”

Nagini stares blankly at them, startled from her own activity; she’s become enamoured with the baby nifflers and their courageous attitudes and has been giving Newt’s spare change to the little buggers. Pumpernickel has become particularly fond of her and begun to gift her bits and pieces of treasure that only he finds valuable. Brass knobs, golden wrappings, and the like. “I don’t…”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” Jacob pushes past her blunder. “We’ll, uh, go over the rules later.”

Newt frowns. “It’d be easier if everyone was middle-headed instead flapping around like a diricawl in heat in the hopes of doing the right step.”

Jacob stares at him for a beat. “I don’t know how to answer that.” He turns to Theseus who shakes his head.

“I don’t know either. Newt, you’ve treated her as equally as everyone else, am I right?” When Newt makes to explain that Tina is not like anyone he’s ever met, his brother gives him a stern glare. “She accepted your confession, though as strange as it was?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then what’s stopping you from snatching her back?”

“Snatch her back? Tina’s not—I don’t think that’s appropriate here.”

Jacob continues despite Newt’s preference for this conversation to end. “When you see her again, all you have to do is sweep her off her feet and place a good one on her. Go to town until she’s swooning. Gals like that.”

Newt flushes. Tina might jinx him if he did such a thing.

“Let her decide,” Nagini whispers and they all quiet at the sound of her voice. “You both should compromise and…not think so much about it.”

Jacob rolls with this advice as enthusiastically as he did with Theseus’s. “Go find your thunderbird.”

Newt frowns. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just trying to speak your language. You know what—forget I even said that.” Jacob takes Newt’s morning tea from him and pulls him to his feet while Theseus summons his coat. “You gotta get to New York stat!”

Newt stumbles when his clothes straighten and clean themselves, pulls at his tie when it tightens a smidge too tight. “I’m still banned from international travel!”

“I’ll deal with Travers and the rest.” Theseus lays a hand on his case when Newt makes to grab it. “Let’s keep this here for this trip. I’ll send for your assistant if there’s any trouble.”

He’s not a stranger to impromptu adventures, faces most problems in his life with the assumption that surprises should be expected and that it was better to go with the flow of things rather than fight the impossible, to enjoy the value of the experience. Except this is more terrifying than anything he’s ever faced, laced with guilt at the mere aspect of focusing on something so selfish while the world is that much closer to crumbling; it feels wrong to be happy when others have lost so much.

Nagini must guess his thoughts because she smiles sadly and reaches for his hand as he passes by, pressing something into his palm. A miniature salamander made from the golden wrapping of a liquor bottle cap. “For good luck.”


	7. Chapter 7

The brownstone looks exactly as Newt remembers and this time around, he enters without the need for secrecy. He takes a straight cut path past the small reception area, up the stairs and its creaking steps, and marches to the door with more urgency than he’s ever felt. He knocks once before he loses his nerve.

The door swings open like it’s been waiting for him and then Tina’s in front of him. She’s dressed in a long skirt, paler than usual, and her expression is a replica of what he saw in the mirror this morning, lovesick. She looks out of breath.

“You told me to chase after you,” he says in lieu of a greeting.

“I did.”

“But I don’t want to chase after you.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “That isn’t to say I won’t, but I’d rather you were nearby—near me. I want you—I want to see you everyday instead of writing letters, to talk to you in person. That way when I say the wrong thing—”

Tina steps past the door frame, just at the edge of his personal space. “You don’t say the wrong thing. It’s just… lost in translation.”

Newt heart does a funny beat at those words. It’s been so long since he’s met someone who understood him, accepted his words at value, and can’t believe that she’s standing right in front of him, nearly at his side. He has to do this right or else he’ll regret it forever.

“I-I know you have your job—“

“Had.”

“What?”

“Had my job. I went to Paris off the records and Madame President wasn’t happy about my report. I couldn’t tell her about Jacob and Queenie and…” She takes a breath. “Officially, I resigned yesterday.”

“That’s wonderful—no, not wonderful. I’m sorry you lost your job, Tina. I know it means so much to you. I—” It’s then that he finally sees the inside of her apartment, cleared out and devoid of personal belongings. A packed suitcase sits at her door. Newt glances between it and Tina, and his mouth moves on its own accord. “Would you like to stay in London?”

She looks at him apprehensively, like it’s a test. “For how long?”

“As long as you like.” He’s not sure what to do with his hands, gripping his sleeves else he do something uncouthly and incredibly forward. “I technically still work for the Ministry and you could to. I’m sure Theseus would gladly take you into his department.”

Tina sways forward. “I’m not one of them high-society girls, you know.”

“I know.”

“I’m not...” She stalls, but Newt knows who she’s referring too. He’s caged himself with his unrequited love for far too long, only realized his mistakes after Leta’s death. That chain won’t hold him back now, hasn’t for a long time.

“I know,” he says and the words are a weight lifted off his chest. It has him smiling because he’s so glad that she’s nothing like he expected, nothing like what he thought he wanted.

“And you still want me?”

He feels like he did in the record room, nervous and determined all at once. “I do.” They’re close now, the toes of their shoes touching, and he thinks his previous observation about her eyes is spot on. They burn like coals dropped in water and Newt can look at nothing else. “Very much in fact.”

Unwilling to hold off the urge any longer, Newt reaches out and grabs a hold of her hand. All at once, his worries are cleared at the contact, even more so when a lapel of his coat is in her grip. His chest seems to expand at her frantic nodding and the soft but passionate, “yes!” He cups her cheek, relieved. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

“I think I can guess.” Tina tilts her head slightly and Newt thinks back to the couple at the cafe in Paris, thinks he can follow the next step. Their noses brush—

The floorboards creak. “Is that you, Tina?”

Tina sighs and Newt studies the crease that forms between her brows as she frowns at the voice, put out. “Yes, Mrs. Esposito.”

“Are you alone?”

“Not alone, Mrs. Esposito.” Tina squeezes his hand and Newt smiles back at her. He picks up her suitcase while she quickly grabs her coat and she leads them down the stairs for the last time.

A middle-aged witch in a floral dress waits for them at ground level. She stares at Newt like he’s the first man she’s seen on the premises in three decades—and he might be. There’s a photograph of himself staring out from the magazine cover in her hands. 

“Here’s the rent for this month,” Tina tells the women, dropping a collection of coins into her hand. She’s not one to beat around the bush and Newt considers himself incredibly lucky when he’s pulled to the door, everything about this moment spontaneous and wonderful. “Consider my lease expired.”

“Tina!”

Newt manages to get a word in before they slip through the door. “Feel free to send any final papers to London. Address them to Newt Scamander.”

Horns and sirens greats them when they step off the threshold and the noise of city life is overwhelming as always, but Newt finds that he doesn’t mind it much. With Tina’s hand fitted in his, navigating the world seems so simple, and he feels no fear in being lead along a path he has no idea where it will take him.

The Empire State Building is barely in view when he remembers something. “What about Achilles Tolliver?”

“Who?”

“The auror you’re dating.”

“Oh. I don’t know what he’s doing these days.” She scoffs and glances at him over the bridge of her nose. “After the first date, I couldn’t stand him. Something to do with most aurors being hypocrites.”

Newt can’t help himself. He pulls her close against his side, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek in a brazen act of public affection he would’ve never done before meeting her. Now, it’s absolutely invigorating. “That’s a relief.”

A strange sound escapes Tina, like she’s sucking in a deep breath, and then she’s grabbing his shirt. She bestows a kiss of her own, this one at the corner of his mouth. Newt nearly trips into an oncoming automobile before Tina pulls him back onto the corner. Someone whistles.

Newt’s absolutely giddy. They’re not expected back until mid-morning in England, so they have a few hours to themselves. With no rush, he’d like to spend time with Tina without interruption, maybe take a stroll through the park without the insistence of chasing after his creatures.

He must have mumbled it aloud because Tina turns sly. “Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. Scamander?”

“Yes. Would you, um, like to?”

“Aren’t you already whisking me away to England?” Newt flushes when she frames it like that, but supposes he is doing just that.

“More of leading you away, really.” He cringes, realizing he’s not making it any better.

“What’s this?” Nagini’s golden salamander peeks out of Newt’s pocket. Once she gets a good look at it, Tina laughs, plucking it from him (Pickett’s more than helpful to push it out of his personal space). “Ha! I love it!”

“It was for good luck,” Newt tells her and for some reason she finds that even funnier. They’ve stopped near Central Park and Tina’s pulling his coat so that they’re facing one another. Muggle pedestrians pass by, but they’re paid no attention to.

“Well,  _ Mr _ .  _ Salamander _ ,” Tina says, grinning wide at her own joke, “how about you take me to dinner and then we’ll see if you get lucky.”

“Lucky with what?” he asks only for her to press her lips against his.


End file.
